The Cadaver and the Courtesan
by Gabriela Romero
Summary: Love at first sight was only for fools, then why were her dreams plagued by the mercenary boy from the moment she laid eyes on him? Chance brings Yoko, a courtesan in a remote brothel, and Bankotsu together to an unsuspecting pond in the middle of the forest. Feelings unravel, but really, she was just a fool in the arms of a dead man. One shot. Bankotsu x OC.


**Author's Note**: notice that they actual title of this story is _The Cadaver and the Whore_, I just wanted to keep the title rated T for ffnet purposes. Please beware that this is an adult story with sexual content, so if you're too young to read, kindly turn away (or don't be offended by the content later on). This story is set before Bankotsu's final battle against Inuyasha, and might contain some timeline inconsistencies, but who cares. Also, I keep referring to Bankotsu as the mercenary boy because he is only 17 in the series, which is pretty young.  
Please review your thoughts!

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**The Cadaver and the Whore**

Her eyes opened as she woke with a start. For an instant her breathing was erratic; she had been dreaming about that mercenary child, and now his face seemed to have been imprinted in her mind, overwhelming her sight. The young woman slowly became aware of her surroundings and noted that she was still buried in the crumpled mess of futon, sheets, and clothes. A sweaty mass of meat lay on top of her arm, crushing half of her body, and she waited patiently, caught between wanting to get away and risk waking her client or spend the remainder of the night pressed against his chest.

The man next to her snored soundly, an opportunity she took to pull her arm out from under his hairy stomach. He grunted suddenly, rolling closer to her. Yoko lay there paralyzed for several long minutes, listening intently to his breathing, terrified; waking a client meant she would be used for several long hours to, yet again, satisfy his every sexual fantasy. A single session of enduring his drenched kisses and systematic thrusting was enough for the young prostitute. His snoring continued, and now confident that he was well into his fifth dream, Yoko stealthily withdrew from the futon and rose to her heels.

She stood naked in the moonlit room, sparing the sleeping man one last, disgusted glance as she considered grabbing her garments. The robes would only be a reminder of what had been; her "gift" from the man. Yoko disregarded her nude appearance and gave him one final glare before tip-toeing past the tatami doors and out of the room. She walked down the empty hallways that led to the back door, often hearing fake moans from her colleague whores and the respective grunts of sheer pleasure from their clients.

She scurried past every wall, unnoticed by everyone, and her skin prickled in relief when she was finally able to step out of the brothel through the back door. The brothel was located at the outskirts of the village, the entrance facing a busy trade road, while its back was facing a clearing that led to rice fields and a forest. Judging by the stillness of the night it was well past midnight. A gust of wind enveloped her nude form, swaying her long, black locks as goose bumps formed all along her arms and legs.

Her feet took her to the washing well behind the brothel, all the while her mind burdened her with thoughts of that mercenary boy of her dreams, a boy that had often walked past the brothel. A young man with the most captivating blue eyes, she had seen him many times, talked to him even. Death followed him, she was sure, yet she felt irrevocably drawn to him. Yoko was often forced to sleep with her clients, forced to pretend to cuddle with them, and it was then that she would always dream of this boy.

It was midsummer, so the well water was lukewarm and refreshing to her skin. Once done, she considered going inside to grab clothes, but the thought of being noticed by another horny man and forced to make love to him deferred her from daring to even step away from the well. Yoko remained naked in the back garden of the brothel, her dignity now forgotten, and she leaned back on the washing well, its worn out bricks leaving scratches all along her ivory pale skin.

In her short moment of privacy, she daydreamed about the boy again. She tried to imagine what his life was like, imagined touching and untying that braid he always carried, imagined him offering to whisk her away, to elope away from her miserable, whoring life.

"Well, well—" a low, rumbling voice suddenly brought her back to reality, and the young woman almost slipped and fell into the well in her surprise.

A stocky man clad in a soldier's uniform stood by the door. His reek of alcohol and sex reached her when he stepped closer to her, and her heart sank at the realization that he had come to bring back inside, that he had come to enlist in her service.

"I—I'm done for the night, my lord." Her voice broke as she stood up and straightened out. "I can direct you to other courtesans that haven't been touched tonight, if you'd like," she shakily told him, but knew it was futile the moment he yanked her wrist and brought her forward.

"You stupid—" His slap would have hurt more if he had been sober.

Suddenly, something incredible happened. Someone took a forceful hold of the stocky soldier's neck from behind him, making him release her wrist at once. The man flailed as he tried to release the grip on his neck, and was suddenly thrown at the brick well, where he hit his head and passed out.

Yoko watched in amazement as that mercenary boy whom she had been daydreaming about merely minutes ago knelt in front of the knocked out man and felt for his pulse. "Heh, that should have killed you, you parasite," he chuckled cynically before thrusting his nails and fingers into the man's neck, slicing through skin and muscle. The boy quickly withdrew the perpetrating hand and jumped away, to avoid the incessant gush of blood that exploded from the man's neck.

He nonchalantly cleaned his bloodied hand with the water from the well before turning his full attention onto Yoko. It was under his stare that for the first time in months she actually felt embarrassed of her nudity and longed to cover up. Her cheeks flushed, and he must have noticed her disposition, for he undid the red cloth that wrapped around his armor and approached her.

Yoko closed her eyes, half intrigued half terrified, when he came close to her, and was surprised when he wrapped the long cloth around her shoulders, where it cascaded down to her knees, effectively covering her. Her black eyes met his brilliant blue orbs, and a juggernaut of emotions she had long ago deemed forgotten flooded back through her. She wanted to cry, she wanted to kiss him, she wanted to scream and run, run, run away.

"Thank you," his stare was unwavering, and she was left with no other option but to speak first.

"Your name is Yoko," this was more of a statement than a question.

Her surprise only mounted; he knew her name? "Yes…"

Their exchange was interrupted when a loud argument broke out within the brothel. Loud noises flowed past the back door as a girl screamed and the brothel owner argued with a disgruntled customer. Knowing that their moment of privacy would soon be over, the boy took a gentle hold of her forearm before saying, "Come with me."

Yoko followed dutifully in silence. He led her past the clearing and into the dark forest. Her bare feet tainted and prickled with every step she took into the wilderness, but felt entirely safe in his presence.

They walked for several long minutes until they reached yet another clearing, only this clearing bordered a small pond. He finally let go of her arm, yet she felt hesitant to take a step away from him. There was something about his eyes, his expression, that simply lured her in.

"Thank you again, for that." Yoko looked down, feeling unnerved under his resilient stare. "Why did you, though?"

The boy shrugged, a little nonchalant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Every time I see you in display at the brothel it bothers me, just the thought of all the things those men do to you makes my blood boil." He spoke with such familiarity to her… they couldn't have possibly met before, could they? There was no way.

Finally he stepped away and sat by the edge of the pond, just far away from the water so that his clothes wouldn't get wet. Yoko followed his lead, settling comfortably close to him. She couldn't explain it, but something about him made her feel at ease, like she could trust him with her life.

"Why do _you_ do it?" The question suddenly boomeranged back to her, and she felt shamed and embarrassed.

"My father gambled all his money to the owner of the brothel, so the only reasonable solution was to sell me off as a whore," her words carried a twinge of sarcasm, for it pained her to remember those terrible times.

"That stupid brothel makes it too damn easy to run away though… it's right at the outskirts of the village, you could have simply walked away," The boy laughed soundly, his cerulean eyes facing the star struck sky.

Yoko shook her head, "They've got plenty of mercenaries to hunt you down… plus no one ever survives outside of the village; all the surrounding forests are plagued with demons."

In a more somber tone he asked, "Are you afraid?"

Yoko was unnecessarily silent for a moment, for she easily knew the answer. "Right now? No."

He faced her once again, his face leaning dangerously close, and her heart pumped hard for dear life. A thought suddenly occurred to her, "I don't know your name."

His charming smile almost dared her to also lean closer, to eliminate the gap between their mouths. "Bankotsu," he told her.

His eyes gave her the encouragement she needed, and suddenly her hands had released hold of the red cloth that kept her covered and had come in contact with his hands. The cloth hung lazily around her shoulders, once again revealing her bared chest to him. His hands felt hard to her touch, as if she was caressing a doll made out of clay, and the moment she touched his palm his hand overtook hers. It almost felt as if he had been longing this sort of affection for ages.

"They will come looking for me," she didn't want to say it—she didn't want to ruin their moment—but she wanted to at least warn him, protect him for as long as she could. Her dreams were slowly becoming a reality, and she would cling on to them for as long as possible.

"I can kill them all." Somehow, she wholeheartedly believed him.

They stared at the pond before them in silence for a while. His entire body felt cold and hard to the touch, yet she wanted to be closer to him, even if all the heat was sucked out of her worn body. Eventually their figures molded into one as she leaned her head on the valley between his shoulder and head and his arm wrapped around her frame. Yoko slowly crept closer to his chest, wanting to listen to the melody of his heartbeat, and was baffled when she felt none. Was this an apparition, materializing itself to fulfill her fantasies? Was she still dreaming, wrapped in the sweaty embrace of her client, dreaming about that mercenary boy?

"Is this real?" She suddenly asked.

His chest thundered with a small chuckle and her face flushed in embarrassment at her silliness. It shouldn't be; she was, after all, a prostitute, and everybody knew that prostitutes never deserved to be held and loved by a man this way.

"Does it matter?"

Just to not be hurt later on, Yoko convinced herself that this was just a dream, even though her heart gnawed and screamed at her. She had often seen him walk past the brothel, had even exchanged a couple of words, but never imagined that her infatuation would ever be reciprocated to the point that they would end up in each other's embrace in a faraway pond.

They spent the majority of the night exchanging small talk. She asked him about his life, for she was endlessly curious of how such a young man ended up becoming such a ruthless killer. He enjoyed it, he had told her. And even though she was older than him her life paled in comparison to all the adventures he had experienced with his six brothers. He then told her he was part of the Band of Seven.

Yoko squiggled uncomfortably under his embrace, slightly moving away. She might only be a whore in a secluded brothel, but she knew of the lore in the village, and knew that the Band of Seven had been killed fifteen years past. This only convinced her further that he was only a fragment of her imagination. If only she could dream forever…

The young woman eventually gathered the courage to pull away, and her heart melted at the confused expression he gave her. "If this is real, then why did you bring me here?"

His eyes bore deep into her, but he looked away when he said, "Tomorrow I'm going to die."

She only stared at him in sheer surprised, her breathing loud compared to the stillness of the forest. Suddenly there was a wall between them. If moments ago she felt like she could melt into his arms, now she felt defenseless, naked, and cold. Bankotsu laid his body down on the grass ground as his brilliant eyes reflected the moon and the stars above.

"I must fight a hanyou—I either kill him or he kills me. I am the strongest man alive, but he's also half demon."

Yoko also laid down on the grass next to him, only that her body faced him entirely. "You must fight?"

"He murdered my brothers, he deserves no redemption." Then he chuckled cynically, "And I bet he feels the same way about me. I came to the brothel because I wanted to see you one last time—to have you, but I felt a hypocrite. I spited on all the men that have been inside you, and yet here I am, wanting to be one of the lot."

"It's not prostitution if it's not paid." She felt corny and stupid, wanting to fulfill the dying wishes of this man she just met.

He glared at her. "I can lay here and tell you how you don't deserve to be sold like this, but life sucks. Some people have to sell their bodies, others have to be brought back to life only to be killed again." It was almost as if there was no filter between his thoughts and his words, as if he had chosen her to be his confidante despite them only knowing each other for mere hours.

Yoko crawled on top of him and leaned her elbows on either side of him, letting her ebony locks pool over them and her ample breasts press against his cold armor. Black met cerulean, and her heart fluttered with a sensation she had never before felt for any man. "Are you an apparition, Bankotsu of the Band of Seven?" Just for her sake, she had to be sure.

"No."

Then the only reasonable follow-up question had to be, "Are you alive?"

He shook his head and her stomach tingled in sheer excitement. Like magnets attracted to each other, their lips were locked together, extinguishing the distance between them. Her experienced tongue explored his mouth, and she only welcomed him when he did the same. Bankotsu slowly leaned forward, eventually sitting up with her in his arms. She sat on his lap and set the red cloth to the side, for it was no longer needed.

His blue eyes were now clouded with a different emotion. Was it lust? Sadness? She couldn't be sure. He dug his face on her neck, taking a deep inhale of her scent, and a chill of tenderness and excitement ran through her chest down to a familiar region between her thighs.

"How can one feel so strongly about a woman?" His voice was muffled by her hair and his breath tickled the hairs on her skin. _Ditto that_, she wanted to say. Instead she began fumbling with the latches around his armor until he pulled away and undid them himself.

The clunky object was thrown to the side and the two rolled onto the grass, only this time Bankotsu was the one towering over her, keeping her trapped between his chest and the grass ground. Yoko dug her hands into his loosened braid as she spread her legs on either side of him, so that he could comfortably lay in her embrace. It was then that she felt the bulge of his manhood press against her belly.

For a second her eyes lolled back and her heart jumped in sheer happiness as she noted that the dreams that plagued her from the moment she laid eyes on him were becoming a reality. This would forever more be the reprieve she would get from her, otherwise miserable, life. Even if Bankotsu was really killed by the hanyou, she could hold on tightly to this memory instead of just holding on to a dream.

His lips were onto hers once again, only this time his hand had found the courage to explore her breasts. He felt cold to the touch, no doubt due to the absence of his beating heart, yet she loved him all the same. Their kisses turned into frenzy and in a matter of seconds his yukata was also undone.

Yoko's eyes traveled through his form. His tanned chest glistened under the moonlight, and all his scars became bared and scrutinized under her stare and under her touch. Her mischievous finger traced a trail along the muscles in his neck, chest, down his abdomen, until they slightly grazed the tip of his erect manhood.

The mercenary boy shuddered involuntarily at her touch, and could only resort to bury his face on her hair, his arms embracing her even tighter. His body trembled in sheer pleasure as she placed loving kisses along his forehead, cheeks, and neck. Just from the way he touched her she could notice his inexperience, and grimly noted to herself that if the battlefield was his expertise, then the bed must be hers. Nevertheless, she let him lead.

Bankotsu buried one hand deep under her neck as he placed his forehead on top of hers. He allowed his cerulean pools to detail her young countenance, until eventually their eyes met once again. "I'm going to become just like them," he whispered with slight difficulty, his body continuing to shudder.

She could only reply with the grimmest of smiles, "Restraining yourself won't stop them from fucking me."

His brows furrowed, as if the thought bothered him, and they forgot all about the exchange once his lips met hers. His other hand traveled down, fondling her perked breasts, caressing her navel, until his fingers met the moist folds of her opening. Their lips parted, their eyes staring as he adjusted her beneath him, allowing his manhood to press at her entrance.

When he entered her, her heart stopped. Yoko arched her back against the ground, dirtying her hair, at the sheer sensation of his entirety being pressed deep inside her. The boy, too, exhaled loudly, the muscles in his shoulders and arms twitching and contracting involuntarily.

Her insides molded to his size almost immediately yet they remained deathly still for a split moment. She noted he was cold, even as he was being covered by her innermost folds. The simple thought of what he was bred a queer excitement from within her, and this once Yoko was the one that edged him to begin by slightly thrusting into him.

Bankotsu leaned on top of her, one hand held on to her side while the other caressed her cheeks as he began pumping into her. His thrusts were irregular and uncoordinated at first, and she could only love him for his inexperience all the more. It wasn't until he allowed his instincts to take over that they acquired a rhythmic pace.

Her moans and his grunts overtook the clearing, only that this time her moans of pleasure were truly genuine. He pumped slowly at first, the clenching of her moist insides around his manhood eventually edging him on to thrust faster—to finish the race and claim her as his own. His blue eyes shut and he held on tightly to her for dear life as his hips rolled in into hers, over and over and over again, slowly leading him to the brink.

He wanted to hold on a little longer, to never let go of the delicious woman that clenched and whimpered at his touch. It didn't help that below him Yoko squirmed and gasped and subconsciously arched her pointed breasts up at him. She bucked her hips closer to him with every thrust and all Bankotsu wanted was to reach deep into her depths, to pump as deep as he could go, to jump over the cliff into the stars and—

"Oh God—" Bankotsu let out a restrained whimper of sheer pleasure as he pumped deep into her depths, spilling himself fully into her. And she held him tightly, held his shivering shoulders and his contracting muscles else he come undone in her embrace.

Yoko kissed his cheeks and forehead while his breathing slowly regulated. That cloudiness in his eyes was still present, but this time she recognized it to be pure bliss. She gently wiped the sweat and small loose hairs from his face, the corners of his lips tugging at a small smile.

She almost whimpered when he withdrew from her insides and rolled to the side, letting the grass cushion his body. This time she welcomed his embrace, welcomed his body when it pressed against hers, and allowed her mind to flutter with thoughts of love and happiness. If such a thing as love at first sight existed, then this had to be it. The mercenary boy had come in to save her life, even if for just a night.

"You're not like the rest." Her voice was steady, her statement adamant.

They shifted positions, so they were facing each other, and Bankotsu only gave her that charming smirk of his. "You're right, I'm smarter, and I got away with doing you for free." When her expression dropped a little he surprised her with a kiss.

Yoko wondered for how she would be able to hold him before he would be whisked away, back to her fantasy world, as if nothing had ever happened. "If you win your battle, will you come save me?" _Please, save me again_ _and again and again_, is all she wanted to plead.

"Do you want a lie?"

Her whole life she had been faced with hard truths, one more wouldn't scar her any more. Yoko shook her head, but she also knew what the answer would be, so there was no need for any more words. How could she possibly imagine a happy ending to her predicament? She was in the arms of a dead man, a whore in the embrace of a cadaver. "Then stay with me, just for tonight." She whispered sweetly to him, and his face only drew nearer.

"If I win my battle the man who brought me back to life will dispose of me."

Yoko wasn't foolish enough to ask him not to fight at all, so she simply pecked his lips and buried her face in his chest. For the slightest moment she could have sworn she felt a heartbeat, and her stomach tingled as she fell in love with him all over again. They were both doomed from the very beginning, yet they pressed on. It was indeed like he had said, life does suck, but just for now they had each other, and that was all that mattered.

They held each other until the smallest specks of the dawning sun began to adorn the clearing. Her reprieve was over, she knew, and she would go back to being beat and abused by her owner and clients. Beside her, Bankotsu slept soundly, as if unbothered by the harsh realities of their lives. His countenance was naïve and peaceful and she envied him for it. Sleep never came easy for Yoko, having been conditioned to leave her clients the moment they fell asleep, but just this once she longed to join this boy in his dreams.

Her reverie was interrupted when he shifted and held her tighter. He must have been awoken by her staring, and lazily brought his lips onto hers. For now she would forget, she decided; for now he was her savior and she his lover. For now they would have their happy ending, even if for just a brief instant.

_I love you,_ she wanted to say. Instead her eyes closed, and in the safety of his embrace, allowed the bliss of sleep to tug at her consciousness, until everything became dark and she lost herself to her dreams.

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